


The Price of Innocence

by Mengde



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: F/M, Gen, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mengde/pseuds/Mengde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kenshin brought Aoshi back to her, Misao thought he would never leave her again. But now Aoshi is on trial for his past sins, and Misao must decide, once and for all, what she is willing to do to keep him with her - because some things come with too high a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scroll I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear readers. My name's Mengde, I've written one other piece for RuroKen in the past (it's on the site!), and this has always been one of my favorite fandoms.
> 
> I participated in a Secret Santa this year, and I was chosen to write a gift fic for the lovely Nagia (you should check her out, her stuff is awesome). She's a fan of Misao and Aoshi, so with that in mind, I wrote her this piece.
> 
> The fic is complete, but I'll post it in three chapters over the next six days, for ease of reading and also to let it bob up to the top a few times to catch eyes. Enjoy!

**For Nagia**

"Is Shinomori Aoshi here, please?"

Misao blinks at the question. The man standing in the doorway of the Aoi-ya is tall and thin, even gangly. A pair of thick, round glasses sit on his nose; the sun reflecting off the lenses obscures his eyes. He wears a tailored Western suit, black against the noon sky. Those of his features Misao can see are unremarkable.

"He doesn't usually take visitors," Misao says cautiously. "Who are you?"

"I beg your pardon," he tells her, his tone all earnestness. "My name is Ryūnosuke Kazuya. I have recently been appointed to the position of Minister of Justice here in Kyoto."

"Fun," Misao says brightly. "And what's your business with Aoshi-sama?"

Kazuya gives her a wide, sincere smile.

"Why, I am here to arrest him."

In a heartbeat, Misao has a pair of kunai in her hand. She's dressed in her street clothes, not her uniform, but she always carries some of the knives. "You want to run that by me again?" she asks.

The disarmingly sincere smile still on his face, Kazuya gestures at her kunai. "Please put those away, Makimachi-san. I am unarmed, and I am not a violent man by nature. To be more precise, I have come with a warrant  _for_ his arrest. I wish to deliver it to him and invite him to surrender himself into police custody. That is why I am here alone, without any policemen – to prevent a scene."

"You have a lot of nerve!" Misao snaps. "Showing up at our door like this and expecting me to just let you waltz in and take Aoshi-sama! Why do you even want to –"

"Misao."

Aoshi's voice freezes her in midsentence. Misao turns to see him standing in the hall, still wearing the simple robes he dons to meditate. "I heard our guest," he says. "Let him enter. He can explain himself to me."

Misao opens her mouth to argue, but something in Aoshi's eyes tells her he's not in the mood for any of her normal lip. With a scowl, she palms the kunai back into her sleeve. "Fine. But I'm warning you, Kazuya-san –"

"You do not have the authority to warn me of anything," Kazuya says, cutting her off. He steps through the door into the Aoi-ya, the sunlight disappearing from his glasses, and Misao sees his eyes for the first time. The bottom half of his face remains fixed in that perfect, sincere smile, but his eyes are cold, dark, and calculating. He spits her with his gaze like a doctor eyeing a sore. "You and I are finished, now."

Without another word to her, he brushes past her, gestures for Aoshi to lead the way. Misao, fuming, is not too enraged to miss the glance Aoshi gives her as he turns to lead Kazuya into the meditation garden. It is a glance she knows too well:  _be quiet and stay hidden._

She gives him her mightiest frown, but his back is already turned to her.

_Well, he didn't say 'don't eavesdrop.'_

Seconds later, Misao is crouched on the roof. She carefully flattens herself against the rough tiles and elbow-crawls to the edge overlooking the meditation garden. From this vantage point, she can't see anything going on in the garden, which means Aoshi and Kazuya can't see  _her_  – but she can hear just fine. The Oniwabanshū trained her from a young age to hear like a bat.

"What is this about?" Aoshi's voice, deep and somber.

"Are you familiar with the new legal codes instituted by the Meiji government this year?" Kazuya. His voice is middling, pleasant. Bland. Misao grits her teeth at the sound of it. She should have known from the first instant that he was bad news.

"Only in passing."

"In brief, the government has adopted the French codes of penal and criminal instruction and adapted them to Japanese custom. Laws are clearly defined, punishments set out. The governor is eager to show the public the equanimity and efficacy of the new code and judicial system to promote order, especially after last year's… incident." Misao flashes back for a moment to Shishio's troops storming Kyoto, trying to set the city ablaze.

"So he wants a scapegoat."

"Of course not," Kazuya says, smooth and calm. "He wants a high-profile criminal who can be tried, found guilty through due process, and punished. Aboveboard, honest, forthright."

Misao realizes she is clenching the tiles beneath her so hard they are cracking. She forces herself to relax her fingers.

"Then make a show trial of one of the war criminals captured after the  _incident,_ " Aoshi says.

Kazuya makes a condescending clucking sound. "If only things were that simple. The governor is  _also_ eager to appease… certain factions within the government. Factions which are concerned about the continued presence of an illegal spy ring within Kyoto."

A beat. "The Oniwabanshū are disbanded," Aoshi tells him. "We are innkeepers."

"Innkeepers who maintain a network of carrier pigeons and keep weaponry on their property," Kazuya replies. "Innkeepers who, lest we forget, all worked as onmitsu for the Shogunate. Your friend Makimachi Misao is the exception, but there are other avenues we might take to ensuring her harmonious citizenship. You understand me."

"You said you have recently been appointed the Minister of Justice," Aoshi observes, his tone conveying none of the sarcasm Misao knows the statement bears.

"Justice is a difficult concept," Kazuya replies. "Actualizing it often requires sacrifice. Compromise. You understand me."

"I will if you speak plainly."

Misao can imagine Kazuya's utterly sincere smile flickering. She hopes it is.

"Surrender yourself to police custody," Kazuya says. "You will be tried for crimes you committed while in the service of the Shogunate, while head of the Edo Castle Oniwabanshū, and while head of the private army of Takeda Kanryū. You will not deny your guilt, but instead confirm it in a public hearing. In view of your cooperation, the judge will be merciful and give you a sentence the end of which you will live to see.

"And in exchange, we will turn a blind eye to the operations of the rest of your innkeepers. We will forget their past allegiances. And we will let our interest in Makimachi Misao's activities throughout Japan – robbery, fraud, assault – lapse. Is that plain enough for you, Shinomori-san?"

"It is," Aoshi replies. "I will present myself at police headquarters tomorrow morning, then. Goodbye, Ryūnosuke-san."

Misao can only lie there, stunned, as she listens to the sound of Aoshi escorting Kazuya out the door.  _He can't do this. Aoshi-sama can't agree to this. I'll never see him again. He can't._

After a minute, she realizes there are tears pooling against the roof tiles, and is almost surprised to find they're hers.

* * *

That evening, Aoshi calls all of them together in the back room. They sit on the floor mats in the otherwise featureless space and he talks. Misao listens, solemn for once in her life, as he gives them an abbreviated version of his meeting with Kazuya.

She has not seen him since that meeting. After he saw Kazuya out, Aoshi also left the Aoi-ya, and Misao was in no state to follow him.

"There is nothing for it," Aoshi concludes. "I am going tomorrow."

Okina has furrowed his brows in anger. Shiro and Kuro both look incredulous. Omasu has concern written all over her face, while Okon keeps her usual composure – except, Misao notes, the way she worries at her long, black hair, rubbing it between her fingers.

"'Nothing for it?'" Okina asks. "This young punk threatens us and you just agree to go along with it? One message and we'll know everything he's ever done, who his family is, and whose palms he had to grease to get this Minister of Justice position. We can make this go away."

"We cannot make the Meiji government's fear of us disappear," Aoshi replies. "Especially not with the kind of tactics you suggest. We must compromise."

Shiro crosses his arms. "Must we? Or is this you not wanting to get your hands dirty again, Okashira?"

"It's not like that!" Misao snaps.

"I can speak for myself, Misao," Aoshi says. She feels her breath hitch at the rebuke in his tone. "Yes, Shiro. I am uninterested in dirtying my hands, as you put it. I swore on the honor of the Oniwabanshū to use my skills against those who threaten the peace with their dark powers. I did not swear to use my skills to escape responsibility for what I have done. This may be political jockeying, but they have the right… and the leverage." He looks at her, just for a moment, but the weight of it presses on her.

"They can't possibly have proof," Omasu says. "Just accusations. Hearsay."

"Irrelevant. If I do not give a full account of my crimes, Kazuya has made it clear the Meiji government will come after all of you."

"We're willing to deal with that," Kuro says.

"But I am not willing to force you to," Aoshi replies. He leans forward, just slightly. "As Okashira of the Oniwabanshū, I give you this order: do not try to help me or stop me. Do not interfere with Kazuya or his cohorts. Let this happen as it must, and perhaps I will see all of you again." Standing, he gives Misao one last glance. It hits her like a blow. "I am sorry."

He leaves, sliding the door closed behind him.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Misao asks. "We can't just let this happen!"

"But you heard Aoshi," Okina tells her, stroking his beard – a sure sign of discontent, for him. "He gave us a direct order in his capacity as Okashira. We must obey that. And as his friends, family, we must respect his wishes. No matter how they make us feel."

Misao can tell she's on the verge of crying again, so she does the only thing she knows will salvage her composure – she leaps forward and hits Okina, a savage right cross in the face, not playful or teasing like so many other times. The old man takes the blow without complaint, narrows his eyes at her as blood trickles from his split lip. "Are you done? Or do you want to hit Aoshi too?" He gestures at the door. "He's only gone back to his room, you know. I'm sure he won't try to dodge any more than I did."

Her stomach does a flip as she realizes that yes, it's Aoshi she wants to strike, it's his face she wants to hit over and over until he gives up his idiotic nobility and promises he'll never leave her again –

Misao flees into her room, and she does not come back out.

* * *

The next morning, her crying done and her mind made up, she throws the door open, ready to storm out of the Aoi-ya and do what needs to be done.

Okina, who is having breakfast in the dining hall, sees her purposeful stride and remarks, "Your spirits seem to have improved since last night, Misao-chan."

"I figured out a loophole while I was asleep," Misao says triumphantly. "Aoshi-sama told us not to help him or hurt Kazuya. But I know someone who doesn't have to follow his dumb orders, and I'm going to write to him."

"Oh, you mean Himura-kun?" Okina asks. "I sent a letter last night, after you stormed off."

Misao blinks. "What?"

The old man favors her with a smile, despite the nasty, bruised split lip she gave him. "Please, Misao-chan. If an idiot girl like you can figure something out, I would have to be  _dead_ to miss it."

She leaps into a flying kick at his head, which he dodges easily, even in a seated position. "Jerk!"

"Whelp," he shoots back. "Now stop trying to kill me and have something to eat. Even if they rush the process – and I'm sure they will – it will still be two weeks or more before Aoshi has his hearing. That's plenty of time for Himura-kun to arrive."

Misao – sprawled on the floor, having botched her landing – looks up at him miserably. "Two weeks? With Aoshi-sama sitting in a jail cell? I might just die, Gramps."

"It would certainly make the experience more palatable for everyone else involved," Okina snaps. "We will persevere, Misao-chan. We are family."

She brushes herself off after getting to her feet. "I know. I just… Why does he have to be like this?"

Okina takes a noisy sip of his tea. "Because it is his nature," he says, the mask of a kindly old man falling away from his features as his eyes narrow in thought. "Because he cannot see any end to his journey but solitude and death. Your Aoshi-sama is a very fatalistic person, Misao-chan. That's why I made him train you and care for you, while he was here. To try to get some light to pierce the darkness of his life."

"So I'm a sunbeam," Misao says, sitting down with him.

With a smirk, Okina hands her a bowl of rice. "Yes. And the sunbeam should stop talking and eat now, so this old man can have his breakfast in peace."

Misao picks at the rice, trying to stay positive. Trying to find hope.


	2. Scroll II

Twelve interminable days after Aoshi left, Kenshin arrives on the Aoi-ya's doorstep.

Misao throws open the door and tackles him, pinning him to the ground in a hug. "Himura! You made it!"

"Misao-dono," he says, not trying to hug her back – she has his arms pinned to his sides, after all. "It is good to see you, despite the circumstances. Perhaps you might let this one go, and we can repair to the dining hall…?"

Getting back to her feet, Misao pouts at him. "You're being too serious, Himura. Things are bad, but you can talk to Aoshi-sama. Come on. It makes me sad when you don't act silly and say 'oro' all the time."

Kenshin dusts himself off before they step inside. "Your optimism is appreciated, Misao-dono, but Aoshi has made his decision. This one came because Okina-dono requested it, not because he believes he can persuade Aoshi to do other than he has done."

"We'll see," Misao says, closing the door behind them. "I have to believe you're going to do some good here, Himura. Otherwise I don't know what I'd do."

He gives her a solemn look before they proceed to the dining hall. The rest of the Oniwabanshū are there already, having just sat down to lunch. Misao tries not to grimace at the smell of food. She hasn't been able to eat properly since Aoshi left. The worry and fear have been gnawing at her.

"Himura-kun," Okina says, rising from his seat to greet Kenshin. "Thank you for coming."

"A great debt is owed you for your help with Shishio," Kenshin replies. "That is why this one came, Okina-dono. Not because Aoshi's mind might be changed."

Okina frowns at him even as he gestures for Kenshin to sit and eat. "Himura-kun, I specifically asked for your help in my letter. I didn't ask for you to come all the way across Japan because honor demands it."

Kenshin gives him an embarrassed smile. "This one will speak to Aoshi, certainly. But you all know him. Once he has made a decision, he does not reconsider it."

"He respects you as an equal," Okina says. "We are his family, and his subordinates. But you are not bound by his orders, and you brought him back to us when he had lost his way. Your words might have a better effect than ours."

"He's refused to see any of us," Okon adds sadly. "At least you he might be willing to talk to. Open up."

Misao has to smile at the absurdity of Aoshi 'opening up.' She makes herself look solemn again before anyone notices.

"This one will go see him, of course," Kenshin says. "But it is said now that this one does not expect to succeed. That is all." He gratefully accepts a bowl of rice and fish from Omasu. "This one would merely speak to Ryūnosuke Kazuya, but the name 'Hitokiri Battousai' does not carry the weight it once did."

"And we would never ask you to use your former position to help us," Okina tells him, severe. "I asked you here only as Himura Kenshin. Not Battousai."

"It is appreciated."

They eat, and then Misao goes with Kenshin to see Aoshi.

* * *

As she expected, the policeman comes back from Aoshi's cell with the news that he will see Kenshin. Every other time she's come, she's been turned away. The progress pleases her.

They stand outside Aoshi's cell. He looks no different than when Misao saw him last, which is heartening. He is sitting cross-legged in the center of the floor, meditating. When the two of them come to a halt, he opens his eyes. "Himura-san."

"Aoshi-san," Kenshin acknowledges. "This one heard of your difficulties and has come to express his sympathies."

"They are appreciated," Aoshi tells him. "But I know Okina asked you to come and dissuade me. I am resolved, Himura-san. Please do me the respect of leaving it at that."

Himura bows, deeply, at the waist. "I could not do otherwise," he says.

Misao explodes, bashing Kenshin across the back of the head before he can straighten up. "THAT'S you trying to persuade him?!" she screeches. "You worthless good-for-nothing rurouni bumpkin! I should kill you!"

"Misao," Aoshi cuts her off. "One day you will understand. Do not hold it against Himura-san."

"Like hell I'll 'understand!'" Misao exclaims. She presses herself against the wooden bars of his cell, not caring that she's rapidly losing all composure. "You're going away again, Aoshi-sama! Why? Why do you have to be so damn proud and stubborn and everything? Just for  _once_ in your  _life_ will you take the easy way out so you don't have to leave me again?"

He closes his eyes. "I cannot do that, Misao. Not even for you."

She turns away from the cell, resolving not to let him see her cry. Not again. "Fine," she says. "Be a hero or whatever, you big jerk. See if I care." She storms out, not looking back until she's out of the police station and several blocks away, and even then it's only because Himura catches her arm.

"Misao-dono," he says, and she can see the pain in his eyes. "Please. Please understand."

"Understand what?" she shrieks at him, not caring that everyone for a block around is staring at her. "That you're on his side of this because of your warrior pride or respect or some dumb thing like that? I thought you were my friend, Himura! I thought you cared about me!" She wrenches her arm free of his grip, turns her back on him. "I thought  _he_ cared," she whispers.

"He does," Kenshin insists. "It is because he cares that he has done this, Misao-dono. This one can tell."

"How does that even work?" Misao cries, rounding on him again. "He cares, so he's leaving me alone again? That's not what a caring person should do, Himura!"

"This one –"

"And I am  _so tired_ of your 'this ones' and 'debts' and 'honor!' Speak like a normal person!"

Something in her quails when she sees the nerve she's struck. His eyes go cold, his mouth hardens into a thin line. Himura Kenshin has overcome Battousai, she knows. But what she's forgotten is that Battousai is always there, and for a split second she finds herself looking him square in the eye. It feels like being submerged in icewater.

"Do not speak to me that way," Battousai hisses at her.

Her knees go out from under her and she lies there in the street, shivering, all of it overwhelming her. Aoshi, Kazuya, Himura, Battousai, everything and everyone swirls around in her head until she can't make sense of anything anymore.

Misao is dimly aware of Kenshin apologizing to her, over and over, babbling the words desperately as he tries to rouse her, but it is all too much. The sound of Kenshin calling her name is the last thing she is aware of.

* * *

Misao spends three days in bed, alternately being force-fed and chided by Omasu for literally worrying herself sick. Malnutrition and heatstroke, the doctor said, combined with stress.

And then it is time for Aoshi's hearing.

She threatens and blusters her way out of bed, dresses herself. She will not miss this. She will be there, even if it kills her. She has to be.

Okina and Himura look up at her as she walks out into the meditation garden, dressed in her street clothes. "Well?" she asks. "We going or what?"

"I'm not," Okina says.

"What? What's the matter with you, old man?"

"It's quite simple," Okina replies. "Aoshi has made his decision. My presence there will not alter it. And I have an inn to look after. We  _do_ have bills to pay, after all. Like medical bills, for stupid children who go without food for two weeks and then collapse in the street."

Misao gives him her most venomous glare. "Fine. Himura, you'll come with me, right?"

"Of course, Misao-dono." Kenshin rises to his feet. "Please, lead the way. Kyoto is not as familiar to this one as once it was." She sees a momentary flicker of embarrassment in his expression as he says 'this one,' but she lets it pass without comment. She feels bad enough about what happened already.

As they walk to the courthouse, Kenshin says to her, "You must not blame Okina-dono."

"Oh? Why shouldn't I? He's being a jerk."

Kenshin gives her a fragile smile. "Okina-dono is a man of much history, Misao-dono. He has lost comrades, seen friends go to their deaths, just or not, honorable or not. When one has seen much death and much loss, one cuts oneself off. One protects oneself." He looks up at the sky, his eyes distant. "It is in his nature, Misao-dono. Just as it is Aoshi's nature to do what he does today."

Misao frowns at him. "I guess. I'm not gonna forgive him that easy, though. He's gonna have some serious apologizing to do later."

The courthouse is an ugly, recently-constructed building, with clear Western influences. Misao feels a sense of dread fill her as she steps into the hall. The floor is marble, not wood or matted. Light comes from high windows. Wooden benches line the hall, filled with citizens of Kyoto. At the front of the hall is an elevated seat, where a severe-looking man in judge's robes sits. To his right, in a less-elevated seat, is Kazuya. His smile is as fixed and sincere as it was when Misao first saw him.

And in front of the judge's seat is the witness stand.

Aoshi stands at it, his hands secured in front of him with wooden stocks. A pair of policemen armed with sabers flank him.

Kenshin and Misao find seats in the back; there are none in the front.

The judge goes on for some time about the necessity of law, and the sovereignty of this most august court, and so forth. Misao rolls her eyes and focuses on glaring at Kazuya. If he notices her, he doesn't show it. The sunlight coming through the windows is reflecting off of his glasses again, hiding his eyes.

After a time, the judge speaks to Aoshi directly. "Shinomori Aoshi," he says, "you stand accused of war crimes while in the service of the former government of this country, as well as numerous crimes committed while in the employ of the late Takeda Kanryū. How do you plead?"

"Guilty," Aoshi replies, emotionlessly and without hesitation.

"As a matter of public record," Kazuya says, perfectly smooth, "you have been made aware of the specifics of the charges brought against you. Would you please enumerate them for the court?"

Misao watches Aoshi look at Kazuya for a long moment, and she allows herself to hope that he'll go back on his word, abandon this foolish, principled stand.

Then he speaks.

"While in the service of the Shogunate, I executed many missions in my capacity as an onmitsu. I assassinated thirteen important revolutionary figures and performed acts of espionage which led to the deaths of many more. On three occasions I obtained information through torture or using family members as leverage. As the head of the Edo Castle Oniwabanshū, I executed thirty-three men who tried to breach the castle grounds. And while serving as the head of Takeda Kanryū's private army, I personally killed eighteen men and directed my Oniwabanshū onmitsu to kill a further twenty-six, as well as assist with Kanryū's opium trade in a variety of ways."

Aoshi looks up at the judge, his expression unreadable from Misao's seat in the courtroom. "Is that satisfactory?"

There is a dead, almost suffocating silence in the courtroom. The judge sits there for a long moment, clearly taken aback.

Then he says, "Shinomori Aoshi, these are appalling crimes. And it is appalling that it has taken this long to bring you to justice.

"However, given your cooperation with these proceedings and your free admission of guilt, as well as your forthright conduct in more recent times, I am inclined to show leniency. I sentence you to no less than forty years' solitary confinement, without possibility of parole. You will have no visitation rights and no access to the outside world."

He picks up a small, wooden hammer – an ugly, Western thing – and raps it against a small block. The sound is unbearably final.

The policemen lead Aoshi away. The crowd files out, murmuring. Kazuya gives Misao one last look before he leaves as well.

She doesn't register any of it. She just sits there, thinking the same thing over and over.  _Forty years. Forty years. I'm not going to see him again for forty years._

_Forty years._

"Misao-dono."

The sound of her name breaks her reverie. Misao realizes, belatedly, that she and Kenshin are utterly alone in the courthouse. She feels numb, and sick.

Kenshin lays his hand over hers. "Misao-dono… This one is sorry."

She looks at him, too hollow even to cry. "I can't even think about it. Forty years." The enormity of it defies comprehension. "Himura, I'm going to be almost sixty before I can see him again."

Kenshin's face clouds. He gets up, moves to the witness stand. Lays a hand on it, almost contemplatively.

"Do you love him?" he asks. His voice is different. Cold.

"Yes," Misao says. "I always have. I always will."

"That is why he's doing this," Kenshin tells her. "Because he knows, and it terrifies him."

"What?" Misao makes herself focus on this. On Kenshin's words. She can deal with this. She can't deal with what's just happened. "Aoshi-sama, terrified? No way."

He turns around to look at her, and she can see that it's not just Kenshin. Not anymore. Battousai is there, too, behind his eyes. Kenshin's still in control, but he's not entirely himself. She shivers. "Himura, are you okay?"

"I know him," Kenshin says, each word sounding like it's tearing its way out of him. "I know Shinomori Aoshi. He loves you, Misao. And he knows what it would mean for the two of you to love each other."

Misao has no words. This is the most terrible day of her life, and yet this is still the most terrifying thing she has ever seen. Kenshin, himself and yet not himself. Freely letting Battousai speak.

"You heard what he's done," Battousai says. "You know what he is. And to save him, you would become like him. You would stain your hands with blood, Misao. Blood never comes off. You smell it, always. You can wash until your flesh is red and raw and it will still be with you." He blinks, slowly, like a feral cat. "He can make his excuses about his honor, and his duty, but in the end, that is why he has let this happen. Because he does not want to see you become like him. Like us."

He leans heavily on the witness stand, his eyes fluttering, and suddenly he is just Kenshin again. He seems small, frail. Before she knows what's happening, Misao is out of her seat and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Himura, are you okay?"

"Yes," he says with a shaky smile. "Sorry to have frightened you, Misao-dono. But… there are things this one cannot say. There are things only  _he_ can say."

"But they're true," Misao says. "If it came down to killing Kazuya to save Aoshi-sama? Or killing  _anyone_ to save him? I'd do it. I know I'd do it."

"And that is what he fears most," Kenshin tells her. "He does not want your innocence to die. It is more precious to him than his own life. That is what this one meant when he said Aoshi does this  _because_ he cares."

"So what do I do?" Misao asks.

Kenshin shakes his head. "Only you can decide that, Misao-dono. It is not this one's place to tell you."

She throws up her hands and begins to pace a tight circuit around the witness stand. "Well that's real noble of you to say, Himura, but I am sick to death of people doing what's right because it's noble or it's their duty or whatever. Don't be Himura Kenshin the rurouni, for once. Be Himura Kenshin, my friend. Who wants to see me happy."

"It sounds," Kenshin says, "like Misao-dono has already decided what she wants this one to say."

"So say it," Misao tells him. "Whatever it is, just say it!"

Kenshin stops leaning on the witness stand and straightens up, visibly regaining his composure. "If Misao-dono insists," he says, "then this one will merely point out that you, too, are Okashira of the Oniwabanshū. You declared yourself such in Aoshi's absence. Which means you are not Aoshi's subordinate. You are his equal, and not bound to follow his orders. It may have only been a temporary title, but Aoshi is, once more, absent."

He turns and heads for the exit. "Think hard on what you want, Misao-dono, and what Aoshi wants," he says. "And then make your own choice."

Kenshin leaves Misao in the empty courtroom. And for the first time since Kazuya showed up at her door, she knows what to do.


	3. Scroll III

Kazuya's home is austere. He sleeps in a windowless room. It's fitting, Misao thinks as she stands over him. Dark, empty. Like his eyes.

He wakes without her touching him or saying anything. "Makimachi-san," he says, still detestably smooth. "Are you here to kill me?"

"Maybe," Misao says. "Haven't decided yet."

"If you are indeed undecided, then let me at least fetch us some tea," Kazuya says. "I find it calming. Perhaps it will improve my chances."

"Don't see why not."

They move to another room. Misao watches him prepare the tea in silence, feeling the kunai lining her shinobi uniform. If he's afraid, he doesn't show it.

He sets a cup in front of her. Misao picks it up, sips it. She can't taste any poison, and she was watching him closely enough in any event that she is sure she'd have noticed if he'd slipped something in. Green tea, she thinks. Calming indeed.

"So," Kazuya says after a minute of silence. "Any thoughts yet?"

"You're not helping your case by bugging me about it constantly," Misao says. "Look, Kazuya."

"Kazuya- _san_ , please."

She sticks her tongue out at him. "Look,  _Kazuya._  I don't think killing you will help Aoshi-sama. The judge already banged his little hammer and everything's decided. Matter of fact, I think  _not_ killing you will help Aoshi-sama a lot more." She produces a kunai, holds it up for him to look at. "But trust me, bud. I  _will_ slit your throat if Aoshi-sama isn't a free man by the time I walk out of this house. Then I'll go and kill that judge, and I'll go and kill the men guarding Aoshi-sama, and we'll run away together. And you – well, not you, you'll be dead, but you like the government you – will  _never_ find us. And if you do, I'll kill whoever you send to catch us. Because I care. Because I love him. And because I don't think he should be punished so the government can show off."

Kazuya's gaze is steady. For the first time, his smile is not sincere – it is bitter, and mocking. "Well. That certainly outlines your position."

"That it does." Misao drains the rest of her cup in one gulp, not caring that it's too hot to be comfortable. "So, Kazuya. What's it going to be? Are you going to work with me, or am I going to walk out of here a murderer?"

"That depends." Kazuya sips his own tea, savoring it. Misao supposes that makes sense; it might be his last cup, after all. "I am the Minister of Justice here in Kyoto, and I represent certain august powers which could reverse Shinomori Aoshi's sentence. Commute it, I should say." His smile widens, and it is wicked. "To working for us."

"You want Aoshi-sama to do your dirty work," Misao says. "To take care of the stuff the government can't do officially."

"That's right. It was my aim the entire time, of course, but Shinomori proved to be quite difficult. Far too honorable. I was honestly surprised – how could a man of such rigid principles have ever been an onmitsu?" Kazuya gives Misao an appraising glance. "But I understand now. He's grown them fresh. For you."

"Careful," she says, laying the point of her kunai flush against his throat. "I can cut so you don't die."

"Makimachi-san, think what you will of me, but I  _am_ a patriot. I want Shinomori Aoshi on the side of angels, so to speak. Whatever he does, it will be for the good of Japan." Kazuya finishes his tea, unconcerned with the deadly weapon pressed against his jugular. "I will give you two papers. One, a letter of passage, permitting you to see him in his cell, before he is transferred to prison. Two, a document which, if he signs it, will make him ours. He will repay his debt to society by working to protect it from the shadows." Kazuya reaches slowly, exaggeratedly so, into his robe, and produces the papers. "Anticipating your visit, I prepared them earlier this evening."

Misao takes the papers from him, tucks them into her shinobi uniform. She palms the kunai, removing it from his throat.

"If this isn't on the level," she says, "I will come back for you."

"I know," Kazuya says, his eyes glittering in the light of the fire. "I would expect nothing less."

As Misao turns to leave, he adds, "Makimachi-san?

"I look forward to working with you."

* * *

Misao waves the letter of passage in the policemen's faces and shoves past them into the station. To Aoshi.

He's just like he was on the day she and Kenshin went to see him. Sitting in the center of his cell, eyes closed.

This time, though, he stands when she walks up to the cell. "What are you doing here?" he asks, seeing her shinobi uniform and clearly assuming the worst.

"I'm here to save your life, dummy," she says. She shoves the document through the bars. "Read it. Say you'll sign it. I'll get a brush and ink from one of the policemen and we'll get out of here. Forever."

Aoshi scans it. "Misao," he finally says. "What have you done?"

"I went to Kazuya," Misao tells him. "I told him I'm not willing to let you go like this. I'd sooner die. Or, in this case, I'd sooner kill him and everyone else involved in this plan and bust you out." She ignores the way his eyes widen at her proclamation and plunges onward. "He already knew. He gave me that. For you. It's what he's wanted the entire time."

"Misao…"

"Sign it," Misao says. "Right now. I mean it, Aoshi-sama. Himura told me why you're doing this. He says you'd rather to go prison for the rest of your life than see me lose my innocence. So I'm telling you, right now, that I would rather lose my innocence than lose you. I'll kill before I let you go again."

His composure, his icy calm that she has never seen break, through which she has never glimpsed anything but pure, logical calculation – she sees it crumble.

It's not a dramatic thing. He just closes his eyes and leans against the bars, almost imperceptibly.

But she knows she's won.

"All right," he says, his voice impossibly tired. "Give me a brush and ink, Misao. I will do this for you."

They leave ten minutes later. Together.

* * *

"You're sure you won't stay any longer?" Misao asks.

She and Aoshi stand outside the Aoi-ya with Kenshin, the following day. She hasn't told him the details of what happened, and she's sure Aoshi hasn't either, but she can tell the swordsman knows.

"This one cannot, sadly," Kenshin tells her with a small shake of the head. "Kaoru-dono and this one – to avoid feelings of recrimination, nothing was said before, but we were going to be married two days ago."

Misao blinks. "Wow. I'm so sorry, Himura."

"It was necessary that this one come, so he did," Kenshin says with a gesture of dismissal. "But now this one must return… or Kaoru-dono will be very angry." He gives her a conspiratorial wink. "You know this one would rather face Shishio again than see Kaoru-dono angry."

"I know."

The swordsman turns to Aoshi. "This one does not know what happened," he says. "But you are here, and Misao-dono is here, and you are together. And that is what is important."

"Yes," Aoshi agrees quietly. "It is."

Kenshin nods. "If you are ever in Tokyo again, this one would be honored to have tea once more." He bows, and then he turns and leaves.

Misao and Aoshi stand there watching him go. "I think this is what he was hoping would happen," Misao says. "He just knew there was no way for it to happen unless I was willing to cross the line he could never tell me to cross."

"And I hope you never do," Aoshi says. She realizes he is looking down at her, and he is very close, closer than he has ever been. Not just physically. Her heart rate picks up.

"As long as I have you," Misao tells him, "I won't have to."

Aoshi nods. "Then I will stay with you.

"Until the day I die."

**The Price of Innocence**

**Fin**


End file.
